The Captain's Crow
by Jonathan Anubian
Summary: Caught in an ambush by a band of orcs a young ranger named Raihnon and his entire patrol are taken prisoner. Instead of killing them the orc captain, Shaka the Slave Taker, puts them to work. If one of them disobeys the captain, or tries to run, he will torture one of their brothers in arms instead of killing them. And the orc captain has his eye squarely on Raihnon.
1. Captured

Opening his eyes to the sight of his commanding officer he let out a low moan. Everything swam before him as someone spoke too quietly for him to make out the words. Reaching up to try and tough his head he was surprised at the heavy chains that kept his arms close together. Frowning he tried to remember just what had happened before he blacked out but everything was hazy. He remembered morning training, a quick wash in a nearby stream, changing out of his training gear and into his day wear, eating a hearty breakfast, then heading out on patrol. It had only been a few weeks since he'd been transferred. The training master had finally approved of him moving to a more permanent station and gaining real world experience. It was about time too, he was certainly old enough now. No, focus. He remembered saddling Barrik and the low chatter of his fellow rangers, then riding with a group of senior rangers so he could better learn the routes. Had he fallen from his horse? There was a flash of people shouting and Barrik rearing- then nothing. "Raihnon! Can you hear me?" Blinking blearily he sat up and nodded, though it was a little painful to do so. Slowly his sight adjusted to the low light and he could see the relieved faces of his fellow rangers. Through his dry throat he let out a dry croak, coughed, then tried to speak once again. "What happened?" The older men glanced at one another, it did not fill him with confidence. "It was an ambush." His commanding officer said bitterly.

As the commander spoke about the ambush it all came flooding back to him. They had just finished their patrol and were on their way home when Raihnon, like the greenhorn he was, relaxed his guard. A noise attracted the attention of two of the more senior rangers but they reacted a moment too late. Out of nowhere they were surrounded by an orc raiding party. Raihnon reached back fruitlessly for his bow when Barrik was shot in the flank and reared. Unable to hold the reigns he fall back, hitting his head on a rocky outcropping and blacking out entirely.

"So we're…" The lieutenant nodded, holding up his own chained wrists. "Gathering us up instead of killing us- this doesn't bode well." Raihnon swallowed a lump of fear. They all looked pretty rough. Some of his seniors had makeshift bandages made of their own torn clothes while others looked like they had been literally dragged though the dirt. 'Why didn't they run me through while I lay unconscious on the ground?' He wondered to himself while his head throbbed dully in pain. He supposed he was lucky. Some men who were thrown from their horses hit their heads and died instantly. Some became shells of their former selves. Others went completely mad. All he felt was pain. Pain and fear.

It wasn't long before a goblin came by to heckle them, throwing partially moldy bread at them to eat and kicking one of the rangers before sauntering off. All things considered the bread wasn't that bad, although one of the men offered to test it first to see if it had been drugged or poisoned. When the commander gave the go-ahead he took a sizable piece and ate it. They waited in grim silence for quite some time but the man exhibited no ill effects. Slowly the others began to eat as well. It was enough to stave off hunger but not enough to give them their strength back. In the disquiet that followed he was certain he could hear some of the other whispering to each other, but he couldn't make out the words. Pulling his legs to his chest he let his head rest on his knees, dark wavy hair obscuring his young features. There were few reasons for orcs to take prisoners and they were never good ones. Either they were hungry, needed slave labor, would be made sport of, or were going to be used as an example. No matter which way you sliced it the outcome looked bleak.

Feeling a hand on his back he jumped, vibrant green eyes wide in a pale face. Motioning for him to calm down the lieutenant sat down next to him. "We're all in this together." Raihnon nodded. At thirty-two he was the youngest of them, though that didn't make him any less deadly. He was inexperienced with the real world but had been trained as thoroughly as any other ranger. If they could get a weapon in his hands he would fight just as hard as the others. The lieutenant sensed his determination and gave him a small smile. There were no words of comfort, it would only hurt Raihnon's pride as an adult. But the man did stay with him, which he appreciated.

Raihnon wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep but his wake-up call, a loud howling, had him jumping up, getting caught in his chains, and falling shoulder first into the ground. The raucous laughter that followed was loud enough to rouse the entire ranger party as a group of orcs hauled them to their feet and brought them roughly outside. Dropping him to the ground the orc stepped back, leaving him to rub at his sore shoulder. Midal looked ready to help him up when a white caragor jumped right in front of them and snarled. The man back up, startled, leaving Raihnon to his own devices. An orc, much larger than the others, walked out from behind the beast with a smirk on his face. Seeing Raihnon on the ground, afraid to move, he crouched down and fisted his hair, pulling him up to stare directly into his eyes. "Look what we have 'ere, boys. This one's a runt." More laughter.

From the other end of the line Commander Haren took a step forward. "He is of no consequence. I am the Commander of these men. What is your purpose with us?" Raihnon stared into the orc's amber eyes as he held his breath. The orc gave him a curious look before letting him go. With the drooling caragor not far from his face he stay put, trying not to move lest the beast think of him as prey. The rancid breath of the beast was enough to make his stomach rebel but he dared not move a muscle and only continued his staring contest with the large feline.

"I am Shaka the Slave Taker, Captain of this war-band." The large orc said with a seriousness and intelligence Raihnon didn't know they could possess. He'd heard tales that orcs were devious and clever, but most of the tales ended with the orc making a critical error and falling to the hands of men. Sometimes they would be spoken of in hushed sad tones when they took the lives of fellow rangers. But this was Raihnon's first time away from home. Looking at these creatures up close he felt he might finally be able to understand just how dangerous they truly were. "Why have you taken us prisoner?" The voice of his commanding officer brought him back to earth and he held his breath. There was a high chance that Haren would be cut down, for daring to speak out of turn. The orc leader glared down at the man. "Slaves make the work go faster. Slaves like your lot are all the better." He grinned evilly. "Do try to be more useful than the other sacks of meat." With a dark chuckle he turned his back on them.

Raihnon had kept up the staring contest a lot longer than he thought he could. Probably due to the adrenaline laced fear running through him. But now his eyes were beginning to hurt something fierce. The large cat finally moved closer, sniffing at his hair. With eye contact broken by the large predator he was able to close his eyes. The creature licked at his blood encrusted hair as Raihnon's heart threatened to jump right out of his chest. "Get off, ya daft beast!" The orc leader yelled, grabbing the great cat by the scruff and hauling him away. Raihnon looked up in shock to find the orc staring down at him with what could only be described as an amused smirk. Sending the monstrous predator off with one of his soldiers he turned back to them.

"So long as you work and do what you're told we won't be skinning you alive. If even one of you puts a toes out of line, however, well I'll just have to punish someone." The orc stared them each in the face before he gave them a feral grin. "I won't be punishing the offender, that's much to simple. Instead I will torture, then kill, one of your comrades. Starting with the weakest first, of course." Again his eyes landed on Raihnon, making the young man's skin go ashen gray. The orc turned away abruptly, ending the one way conversation and yelling at his soldiers to get to their posts. The orcs from before gathered them up and hauled them back to the small hut they were being kept in. The Dunedain were miserable. The punishment the orc leader had come up with was cruel and ingenious. Every man would gladly give his life to save his brothers. But if he was caught it would be his brother's life on the line. Raihnon grimaced. He felt a grudging respect for the orc leader's cunning but hated him for their current predicament.

They had a few more hours to rest before they were roused again an hour before dawn. They were given a small meal then marched, as one, to a work site. By the time they arrived the sun had risen above the mountains and they were set to work next to the regular human slaves. The work was back breaking. Breaking rocks, hauling debris, and shoveling out a path for a new road. Within a couple of hours Raihnon's tunic was soaked with sweat, his hair clinging to his face and the back of his neck. The goblin and orc overseers were dangerous and cruel, often talking loudly about how they would butcher and eat any lazy slaves. Each time he had to pass by one of the orcs he could feel his heart in his throat. With no weapons he wasn't strong enough to take one of them on himself. Even so, attacking one of them would bring the entire horde down on his head. One wrong move and one of his brothers would be tortured and killed. Looking to the more experienced rangers for guidance he kept his head down and worked hard. Every once in a while he would catch a hand signal as the men silently conversed when their overseers attention was elsewhere. Some of the hand signs were new, shorthand between close comrades. Hauling more broken rocks to the pile, which would be used to line the road later, he thought he caught the words 'retreat' and 'night' but he couldn't be certain.

Stopping for a moment after lifting a particularly heavy rock and carrying it all the way back to the pile he wiped his slick forehead with the back of his sleeve, drying to keep the sweat out of his eyes. Running a hand through his hair to slick it back he wondered if he should fashion a headband out of a part of his tunic. Hearing a commotion he spied the orc leader riding the white caragor. The large orc rounded on one of his soldiers, yelling so loudly Raihnon could almost make out the words from there. Suddenly there was a burst of pain from his stomach and he fell to the ground holding his middle. For a moment he thought he would vomit but thankfully he was able to swallow the feeling down. "Get up you lazy Tark!" Apparently he had been standing there too long and one of the goblin overseers had finally noticed. Breathing through his nose he felt an all encompassing race fill him, taking over his body and mind.

Glaring up at the goblin with steely green eyes he imagined bringing the pickaxe down into it's head. The goblin took a step back, looking confused and fearful, as Raihnon's hands clenched and he slowly got to his feet. The anger left him just as suddenly as it had arrived and his hands relaxed suddenly. His head and stomach both throbbed in pain as he turned and picked up the pickaxe, intending to go back to work. Gathering his wits the goblin grabbed him by the shoulder and hissed. "I don't like the look you just gave me, Tark." Rushing over to protect him Bador, the lieutenant, tried to put himself between Raihnon and the goblin. "Let him go." The man said firmly. "Oh! Looks like you want to-" Before the goblin could finish his sentence the orc captain, who had somehow snuck up behind him, backhanded him with a force that probably shattered his bones. The rangers gaped as he flew nearly ten feet, bouncing off the ground and skidding to a stop. "No weak willed lumps will be in my army!" He growled, loud enough that the other warriors could hear him. Raihnon could feel that growl all the way to his toes, it was jarring. "Next one of you cowers away from a Tark will be thrown to the caragors."

When he was finished the orc captain looked over at them, catching Raihnon's eye. If he didn't know any better he would have thought the orc captain had just saved him. But that was preposterous. Under that gaze he felt like he was completely exposed and alone. BUt it only lasted a moment. "Get back to work!" He yelled over his shoulder a everyone who had frozen in place who watch him thrash the goblin. Immediately everyone began frantically doing their jobs, all except the men who quietly went back to work as normal. The orc captain whistled for his beast and hauled himself up before wandering off to inspect something or another. Raihnon's eyes followed him for a moment before Bador shook him slightly. "That was a foolish thing to do, Raihnon." Trembling slightly he turned to look at the man before his eyes fell to the ground. "I-I don't know what came over me, Sir. It was like an uncontrollable rage inside me just broke free." Swallowing thickly he reached up and pressed a hand to his head, it still hurt. He wanted to share his worries with the man but it looked as if his attention was elsewhere. "Don't do something like that again. Just keep your head down." Bador said as he started walking toward another member of the patrol to help him remove a particularly difficult stump.

At the mid-point of the day, when the sun was at its peak,they were halted for another meal. Bowls of strange gruel and skins of water were handed out. Raihnon drank his down greedily at first, before deciding he should save the rest. Who knew how long they would need to work for? He suspected that they would be marched back to the camp before night fell, so none of them could use the darkness to escape. Sitting on the ground he sniffed at the strange substance but it didn't smell rancid. Taking a small bite he grimaced in disgust. His stomach and head both hurt but he barely noticed them. Briefly he wondered if his brothers in arms had noticed his… peculiarities. Biting his lip he glanced over at them and wondered if he should mention it but quickly discarded the idea. It wasn't as if it could help anyone but himself anyway.

Finished eating they were forced back to work. By the time the sun had moved to the other end of the sky, elongating the shadows, his entire body was trembling from the strain. Training had been strict and intense but it was nothing like this. This was torture. His head pounded and anger boiled in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know if he wanted to throw his shovel at the nearest goblin to start a fight or throw up everything he'd eaten and collapse to the ground in a heap. Leaning on his shovel as a wave of nausea hit him he swore he was about to pass out. Fumbling with the water skin for a moment he finally pulled the cork and finished it off. If he could only hold out until the next day he would be fine. He was sure of it. Just as he was sure the bruising on his stomach and wound on his head would go away. All he needed to do was fall asleep.

When the sun was hidden halfway behind the mountains they were told to pack up and shackled together to be brought back to camp. His body was exhausted and he could barely put one foot in front of the other. Two of the other rangers looped their chained wrists through his arms and practically carried him back to camp. The moment they were left in their pen every one of them collapsed to the ground in exhaustion. It looked like they would be staying in a pen separate from the other slaves. It was probably to stop them from fermenting a rebellion. After all they were Rangers of the North. If they led the others would follow.

Resting his head on his arm he let out a low sigh of exhaustion and closed his eyes. He had barely nodded off for an hour when he was awakened by harsh voices. Blinking sleep weary eyes he looked over at the others with concern. "We should escape now, while we're still strong!" Keval hissed. The man wasn't known for his subtlety or patience. "We will wait. Once the orcs have lowered their guard, think that they've broken us, then we will attempt an escape." The man huffed but said no more. Eyes half lidded he fell asleep to the sound of the others discussing other plans. Soon he was back in the land of dreams, in the midst of a most beautiful garden.

The next day they were woken abruptly again and the cycle continued. It went on this way for a while. Day in and day out they would be forced to work on the road. Digging up stumps and moving rocks, breaking up the ground with shovels and mattocks. The orcs and goblins would come by to heckle them, beating them if they didn't work to some impossible standard that had been set for them by their commanding officers. Each day the men were worn down more and more with gaunt faces and tired eyes. The only one who seemed unaffected was Raihnon, but the orcs seemed to assume it was because he was being coddled by the other prisoners, being the youngest. But that wasn't the case. Either because of the blood running through his veins or some divine gift given to him by the Valar, he couldn't quite be sure. He was less tired than the others by days end and was more rested when he woke in the morning. The scant rations they were given sustained him more than they should and he feared that it would be noticed sooner or later. Watching his brothers wither and die slowly as the days progressed made his heart ache. If they weren't so worried about getting their brothers killed he was certain some of them would have risked an escape. But they were all loyal rangers and hardy men of Gondor. They would not leave one of their own behind to a horrible fate. It was with this in mind that had Raihnon secretly giving his companions more food by lessening his own. At each meal he would offer to fetch food for the most tired of their group. Then, when no one was looking, he would pour some of his gruel into their bowl. Not enough that they would notice and comment on it, but enough to at least feel like he was helping in some way to keep his brothers a few more steps away from deaths door.

Each day the Captain would appear and watch them work for a time, speaking with his underlings and barking orders before heading back to camp on his caragor. Every time the orc appeared he could feel eyes on his back and wondered just when he was going to have his head on the chopping block. Just thinking about it made him feel green around the gills. So he kept his head down and worked hard until the Captain was out of sight.

Waking with a start as a horn was blared close by he groaned and rose from the ground, his chains heavy and difficult to maneuver. The other men rose a little more slowly, their faces and eyes looking tired. "Get up! Quickly now, haven't got all day!" A goblin screeched at them from the door to their pen. "Don't keep the captain waiting, he has business with you." His voice was filled with an excitement that had Raihnon's stomach feeling like it had been dropped down a well. Standing outside with the others in the dark of the night he looked around at the torch wielding orcs and bit his lips nervously.

When Shaka appeared it was without his nasty cat, though he was no less threatening with the large sword at his hip. Stopping a few feet in front of them he looked them all over, amber eyes just as piercing as before. Raihnon shivered as the orcs eyes seemed to linger on him just a little too long, as if he could see through him. The young ranger tried his best to stand tall next to his brothers in arms but the calculating look had his eyes desperately finding the ground just to get away from that gaze. "You may notice that your little group is one short," he growled. Looking up in surprise he caught his comrades doing the same as they searched for the missing member. A moment later it dawned on him. They were missing Talor, their member who was the best at stealth and running. "It seems that some of you didn't take my words to heart yet." Dread passed through him as an orc came into sight, dragging the missing ranger behind him. The man was tossed in front of Shaka, like a ragdoll, and the captain glared down at him with cold eyes. Talor was able to rise to his feet but was unsteady, he must have put up a fight before being captured. "You have one chance. Name a co-conspirator and their death will be painless. Stay silent and…" He opened his arms theatrically as if to say- 'you already know what I'm going to say.'

Talor refused to speak. He looked every member in the face but none of them blamed him for trying to run. They were Rangers of Gondor; they would not be broken. Shaka kicked the man in the back, forcing him to his knees. "So you refuse to talk? Perhaps I should cut out your tongue?" Raihnon felt helpless as he watched the hunched form of his brother in arms as he refused to sell out one of their own. The orcs began to laugh, jeering the humans and egging on their captain. A burst of hot anger filled his chest and he glared death at the captain, green eyes steely and bright in the firelight. "Now there's a lad with fire in his belly." The orc captain chuckled. Midal tried to step in front of him to protect him from view but it looked as though the captain had made up his mind. Each step the captain made toward him saw the faces of his fellow rangers turning more desperate and bleak. "T-take me instead! I am responsible for these men. If you are going to torture someone, then it should be me!" As the commander spoke the anger inside him fizzled and died, leaving him shaking and sick to his stomach.

"Torture? Who said anything about torture? No, this is an honor- isn't it _Vogal-Sorr_." The orcs chuckled darkly as Shaka's eyes bore into his own. Raihnon paled considerably. The threat of torture, death, or something worse left him feeling weak in the knees. Swallowing down his fear he spoke in a voice just loud enough for the men close to him to hear. "I-it's okay Commander. T-try to stay alive, sir. You're needed more than I am." His eyes never left the orc's as he spoke, his voice high and filled with fear. A look passed over Shaka's face and Raihnon thought he saw a flicker of approval. He quickly discarded the thought. He was no orc expert, it could have very well been disgust after all.

Grabbing hold of his arm he dragged the young ranger out of the line and dismissed the others back to their rest. They still had to work in the morning, after all.

Being hauled around the camp like a misbehaving child was a nightmare come to life. Orcs, goblins, and even a couple of ologs sat around fires and talked in loud voices, making horrible jokes and staring at him as they passed. He wasn't sure where they were going but he assumed it was someplace unpleasant. He winced again as they rounded a tower and his arm was wrenched. He would definitely have a bruise, if not a dislocated arm. Swallowing any sounds of surprise or pain he wracked his mind for any way to survive whatever was about to happen. If the orc liked inflicting pain should he scream and get it over with? Or should he try to remain stoic in the face of it. It was hard to tell with orcs, like men, what would appease them. But Raihnon was no fool. He knew that whatever came next was going to hurt more than anything else he'd endured in his entire life. Sending a prayer to the Valar that he could endure and survive he closed his eyes until they came to a jarring stop. "Who's that Boss?"

Opening his eyes he stared at a slightly smaller orc who had addressed the captain. This new orc's hair was in a single long braid down their back and their armor looked a little less shabby than some of the others he'd seen. "Muga, aren't you supposed to be minding the recruits?" A reedy laugh came from the other orc as they leaned against a wooden post. "Knocked a few out in the training field and the rest are drinking grog with the boys. Most of them are decent, but they still need a few things beaten into them." Raihnon couldn't place why this orc unsettled him so, other than the fact that all of the orcs unsettled him, so he just tried to remain as quiet and still as he could, hoping not to gain any more attention. "But you didn't answer my question about the pink-skin." They said with a sly smirk. Shaka huffed. "One of the rangers, I'm teaching them what happens when they cross me." The orc's eyes narrowed for a moment before they grinned viciously. "Oh, I'm sure that's all it is. Well, have fun Boss. I'll take the recruits out for a scouting mission tomorrow." Shaka grunted in acknowledgment and their pace picked up again, taking Raihnon even further into the camp.

Eventually they passed by what appeared to be guards who stood straighter when Shaka walked by. They glanced toward him but didn't say a word about the human their leader had with him. They came up to a large structure, somewhere between a tent and a more permanent base. It was made of sturdy wood poles with thick leather drapes and stood tall enough for Shaka to walk through the doorway without having to duck his head. The inside had leather skins layered across the ground to keep out the mud and cold. There was a table in one corner, a barrel of what might have been water, at least he hoped, and a thick fabric separating the whole tent into two spaces. Pulling back the fabric the orc captain swung him forward and let go of his arm. Raihnon, losing balance, fell to the ground. Surprisingly it hadn't hurt as much as he'd thought. There were multiple furs laying on the ground. The smaller room had a few extra armor pieces and a stand for weaponry. Blinking dumbly for a moment, his brain unable to process everything at once, he realized with horror that he'd been taken to the captain's personal living quarters. Scrambling to sit up he turned to the orc, who had come through the doorway and was staring down at him with a predatory grin. "Nowhere to run, _Vogal-Sorr_." 

[Translation time!]

Vogal-Sorr: Little Crow

Goth: Can mean Lord or Master, in this case it means master.


	2. Cursed

Groaning in pain as his consciousness slowly returned Raihnon tried to roll over but found himself unable to move. Something was holding him in place… something large and warm. Trying to shift to get more comfortable he felt a dull pain shoot up his back and gasped. Eyes snapping open he instinctively bit down on his lips to keep any more sound from escaping. His mind was foggy with deep sleep and he had no idea where he was or why. He could feel the fur he was laying on and see the thick leather that was being used to separate the room he was in from the room next door. Blinking he couldn't help but feel like he was missing something important. Looking behind him as he reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes he froze. Mouth dry and body shaking with horror he stared at the sleeping face of Shaka. The beastly orc captain was laying with one arm draped over Raihnon's waist.

With that sudden shock to the system he suddenly felt wide awake. Turning his face away, in case the orc woke up, he finally noticed the heartbeat against his back and the warm breath on his hair. Curling in on himself he trembled as everything from the night before came flooding back into his mind. Revulsion curdled in his stomach and made him want to throw up what little he'd eaten the night before. He wanted to dive into the nearest pool of clean water, ice cold or not, and scrub every part of himself clean. Even then he was certain he would never feel the same again. This would always be in the back of his mind; forever.

The movement must have been pretty noticeable as the captain growled something and tightened his grip, pulling the man closer to him. Pressed up against the orc his own breathing started to become erratic and his heart beat madly in his chest from fear. _"Amallat balug frum Vogal-Sorr?"_ The strange words meant nothing to Raihnon but it had been phrased as a question. He was afraid of what would happen of he didn't answer but he had no idea how to respond. After a moment there was a grunt and the arm moved away from him. Relief filled him but was soon replaced with dread. He was happy not to be so close to the savage humanoid but terrified now that he was awake.

Standing from the furs the captain stretched, joints popping as he rolled his powerful shoulders and cracked the bones in his neck. Pulling his knees closer to his chest he glanced up at the orc. Silence reigned for a time as they stared at each other. One with fear and the other curiosity. "Can you move?" Came the gruff voice, startling the poor man. "Y-yes… got." There was a snort of what may have been amusement as the Captain walked over to his pile or armor and began re-attaching pieces. " _Goth. Shaka-goth_ around camp. Understand?" Not wanting to anger him Raihnon nodded and tried to memorize the pronunciation as best he could, saying it over and over in his mind and mumbling under his breath until he was certain he wouldn't forget.

Something hit him lightly on the back and he choked on a yelp as he jumped away from it. "Get dressed." Looking at what hit him he saw it was his own clothing and snatched the fabric up quickly. Dressing in what had to be record time he grimaced in disgust at how dirty he felt. Sweat, tears, dirt, grime, and… other things. It was better than being dead, but not by much. Wrapping his arms around himself he took a moment to take in more details of the captain's hut. The information might be useful later. Raihnon's eyes landed on Shaka. The orc's back was turned and he seemed to be sluggish in the morning. It was a good chance to try and escape. _'And go where?'_ He chided himself.

Even if he had a destination in mind he was dead center of a camp filled with orcs who loved to make sport of men. Besides that he would never leave his brothers behind. In the end he just stood there staring off into the ether as the captain finished putting on his armor. It took Raihnon a moment to notice the silence. Glancing toward the orc he flinched when he caught Shaka staring. Letting his eyes drop to the ground he clenched his hands into fists at his side. Shaka came closer, stopping right in front of him, but he refused to look up. A tight grip on his arm had him wincing before a large hand grabbed his chin and forced his head up. The moment their eyes met the captain let out a low growl that had the hair on the back of Raihnon's neck raising. "You will look me in the eyes when I come for you." His voice was low and filled with possessive anger. "Yes _Goth_." This response seemed to please the orc captain and he was quickly released.

" _Shalat Goth_." It was a command but he had no idea what it meant. Something about the orc, since he'd used the word for master. Hesitating for a moment he watched the orc as he walked past the leather room divider and slowly followed him. The captain said nothing and he relaxed a little. The words must have meant something like 'follow me' or 'come here.' Outside of the tent the guards looked at him, their captain, then each other. Something passed between the two as one gave a smug grin to the other. _"Lat thrakug kafaz snaga!"_ Shaka barked at the two. They snapped to attention and glanced at each other before one stepped forward. The captain put a hand against his back and shoved him toward the other orc, who grabbed him by the arm firmly.

Whistling in a high pitch the captain turned away from the guards and cupped his hands around his mouth. _"Bukra!"_ As the guard began dragging him away he caught sight of the giant white caragor sprinting through the camp toward the captain. 'That must be its name.' He thought to himself as the caragor stopped in front of the large orc. A beastly pet for a monstrous brute.

"Move it _tark._ " Eyes forward he was pushed and prodded as they walked through the camp, always going in one direction. He had no idea where they were going and he was worried. Now that the orc had his fun would Raihnon be killed? That didn't make much sense. But neither did the orcs. After what had happened he wasn't exactly thinking rationally.

The walk through camp was harrowing. His entire body was on edge as the orcs they passed jeered and called out to him and his jailer. The orc next to him would call back insults as raucous laughter followed them. Raihnon's jaw was clenched so hard he thought he could hear his bones creaking but he never said a word. Instigating them or appearing weak would just spur them on. He kept his eyes forward, his face a blank mask, until they arrived at the pen where his brothers were being kept. Thrust back inside he stumbled and nearly fell to the ground. The moment the other rangers eyes fell on him the tension in their shoulders and faces lessened. The guard was still behind him, yelling something at a nearby goblin, so they dared not come forward yet

The guard took something from the goblin and came inside, keeping one eye on the others as he did so. In his hands he held some sort of leather strap. "Stay still _tark_. Wouldn't want any accidents." The orc laughed as Raihnon froze, face pale. The item in his hands turned out to be a thick leather collar with a small metal lock. Once it was on the orc shackled him like the others then left with no explanation.

Reaching up he brushed his fingers against the leather in confusion. It was fairly loose on his neck, meaning he could still swallow and talk. "Raihnon, are you well lad?" Recognizing the commander's voice he tried to smile but it came out more like a grimace. "I'm fine." This statement was met with skeptical and worried expressions. "You were gone for the entire night. What did they do to you?" His blood froze in his body. Clenching his hands until he could feel his fingernails digging into his flesh he took a deep breath. Eyes dropping to the ground he had to resist the urge to curl in on himself in an attempt to keep himself together. His mouth felt like it was filled with ashes. "They beat me. Then they did something and the pain would go away. Then they'd beat me more." The lie was thick on his tongue and he could see the disbelief in their eyes. He wanted to tell them the truth but the words would not come out. "I… passed out from the pain," not a lie, "and they just left me there all night." Yeah. All night. Pressed up against a hulking orc captain. The thought made him shudder in revulsion.

"We're just glad you're safe, lad." Commander Haren finally said, sounding relieved. When Raihnon looked up the man's eyes were sharp and penetrating- he wanted the truth. Shaking his head he feigned dizziness and lowered himself to the ground, turning his back on the others so he wouldn't need to face their accusing eyes. Curling in on himself he let out a soft groan of pain. Although he was slowly growing numb he still felt stiff.

They had to wait about an hour or so before they were given their morning meal. The usual guard, a goblin who liked to torment them, entered the pen and sneered at them. As usual he threw bread at them, kicked them, and hurled insults at them. That is until he made it to Raihnon. One look at the young man and a different look came over him. A grimace somewhere between hatred and fear. Dropping the bread into Raihnon's lap he said nothing as he turned and left the pen. Leaving the youngest ranger unmolested. Raihnon was just as baffled by this as the others, sharing a confused look with his comrades. All except Keval. The man's eyes narrowed in suspicion from the far corner of the hut. Knowing he had to keep up his strength Raihnon ate the bread sullenly. It was just as mediocre as before.

The rest of the day was the same as all the others since he'd arrived. They were hauled out of the pen, taken to the work site, and forced into back-breaking labor. Unlike all the other days the orcs and goblins eyed him almost warily, avoiding him as much as possible. Even the other men seemed to notice it and began looking at him with suspicion. Being scrutinized so heavily made him uncomfortable and he kept making mistakes as his anxiety rose. Yet he was rarely chided.

At the mid-day break he offered to fetch one of his comrade's rations like usual and ran off before they could stop him. Standing in line he waited for his turn and frowned when one bowl was filled nearly to the brim and the orc in charge of the food growled something under his breath. The orc in charge of water handed him two skins, one filled far more than the other. He hesitated for only a moment, wanting to question it, before he fled back to the others. Before he reached the other Dunedain he poured some of his rations out into the other bowl but it was quite obvious he still had more than he others. Handing the bowl off to Bador he sat down and started to eat, facing slightly away and leaning over his food so that the others couldn't see. When he'd finished about two thirds of it he got up and handed his bowl to Midal. "I'm not very hungry."

The man eyed him carefully and Raihnon flinched. Midal was the group's healer. The worried look in the man's eyes made him lower hid head slightly, letting his bangs fall in front of his eyes so that the man couldn't see his expression. "Are you unwell?" Biting the inside of his cheek he shook his head. "Raihnon, do not lie to me." The chastising tone reminded him that these men were not just fellow slaves but his superiors. For a moment he couldn't think of anything to say. Finally he settled on the simplest excuse he could think of. "I took many blows to the stomach. Eating has made me feel nauseous." Silence fell between them for a moment. "Tonight you are going to let me examine you. You could have serious injuries. Letting them go unattended is dangerous." He could think of no way to refuse without sounding as if he was trying to hide something. Glancing up he caught the man's serious expression; it had not been a request. "…yes sir."

Once the break was over he was ordered to carry some rocks over to the pile while the others broke them with pickaxes. Carrying the rocks carefully so he didn't drop any on the way he passed by some of the guards who were mostly ignoring them, caught up in a conversation. "…see the collar? Leave him alone if you know what's good for you." _'Collar? Where they talking about him?'_ "And why would I do that? He looks like he'd scream like a woman if I stabbed him with my spear." A dark cackle left the taller orc and he felt cold sweat slide down his back. "Because he's _Kritar-kurv_." The second orc looked startled and stared at him. He pretended to stumble to hide the fact that he had been eavesdropping.

Unfortunately he knew almost nothing of Black Speech beyond the few words he heard from Shaka. Asking his comrades might make them suspicious. What if it meant something that gave away what had really happened to him when he had been taken away? He didn't want to see disgust or pity in their eyes. For a moment he felt suddenly very angry, as if all his ill thoughts about his current situation were bubbling up all at once. Dropping the rocks on the pile he reached up and grabbed at his head, shaking it to get rid of the negative feelings. Why was he so dizzy? "Hey! Get back to work, _Tark_!" Jumping at the loud voice behind him he scurried back to the others. He was tired and dehydrated, that was all. All he needed was some water and rest.

By the time they were put back in the pen Raihnon was a haggard mess. It wasn't just the hard labor, it made every man sweat through his clothes. No. It was the stress of all the staring and whispering. The orcs watched him and spoke to each other in their guttural tongue. Which made the men stare at him and whisper amongst themselves. It was enough to drive a man mad. Add to that the coming examination from Midal. It was sure to end in disaster. "Raihnon, come over here." The man said in a kind but firm manner. The spot he chose had the most light filtering in from the torches outside. It was also the furthest from the others. With a growing sense of dread he trudged over to the spot and sat down, facing away fro everyone.

Stripping off his tunic he set it on his lap. Midal's hands pressed gently into his back and ribs, making him tremble and twitch. "I don't feel any broken or fractured bones..." The man muttered to himself. Lifting Raihnon's arm he looked at the hand print around his bicep and frowned. "This doesn't look too bad… put your tunic back on and lay back." Pulling the fabric over his head he must have missed something that passed between Midal and the commander. When he lay down the man came over and knelt next to him. "Is something wrong Midal?" He looked down at Raihnon and the young man knew he couldn't keep it a secret any longer. He closed his eyes and let out a ragged sigh. "My injuries are already healing." The two men shared a look and he felt his stomach clench. "So you already know?" He nodded.

"I was born like this. My mother said it was a gift that has been in our family for a long time, much like my eye color." Green eyes, like summer leaves. Such a rare color for the Dunedain who often had silvery grey to steely blue eyes. "It takes half as long for me to heal from injuries as any other man. If I broke a bone it would take me two _asta_ to heal, rather than four or five." Having a completely healed bone, with no trace it was ever broken to begin with, in two months was astounding. "My head should be fully healed now." He mentioned with faux levity. Reaching over Midal gently inspected the spot where his head had split open before. The wound was completely sealed. Not even a scar or bump where it had been before. "Were you trying to hide this? Is that why you hesitated to let me examine you?" Looking between the two men he felt trapped.

Reaching up he placed his palms against his eyes. He swore he could feel his head pound in time with his heart. He was scared they would hate him. That he would be shunned or looked on with disgust. "Yeah… that's one reason." He couldn't see them but he knew they were listening. "What is the other reason." The commander. He wanted answers. "…what is a _Kritar-kurv_?" Both men made choking sounds, as if they had sucked in their breath to keep from being loud. His body began to shake as he felt a burning in the back of his throat. He had some suspicion as to what it meant but he wasn't sure he wanted to know. "Raihnon, I don't want you to tell anyone else about this. It could be dangerous for you. So we'll keep it quiet for now." He nodded. A sigh left the commander and suddenly his hands were pulled away from his face. The man stared down at him for a moment and gave him a reassuring smile. "We don't think ill of you. You have done nothing wrong." That said he let go and stood. "I'll let you finish your examination." Without another word he walked back to the others, telling them that Raihnon was hurt but in no immediate danger.

Once Haren was gone Midal looked down at him. "I'm going to examine you further. I promise you I won't hurt you." His throat was too thick with emotion to answer so he only nodded. Even more gently than before Midal's hands pressed into his flesh. It didn't take long before the man sat back. "There's no internal bleeding." It was a relief. He'd never had internal bleeding before so he was unsure how well he'd be able to heal from it. "Tell me if anything begins to hurt worse or if you start feeling feverish. There isn't much I can do but I've spotted a few healing herbs between camp and the road." Sitting up he looked over at the others then at Midal. "Thank you." It came out as a rusty croak and he had to clear his throat a few times for the gritty feeling to fade. "Commander Haren is right, you know. You are not at fault for this. Any of it. Orcs are cruel and insidious. They want to break us. Don't let them win. You are strong, Raihnon. Nothing can take that away from you." Raihnon nodded and the man gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder before rejoining the other rangers.

Finally allowed to be alone with his thoughts he curled up defensively with his back to the wall of the hut. After everything that had happened that day he was completely exhausted. His eyes began to slip closed. Soon he fell asleep to the sounds of his comrades talking in hushed tones and the distant sounds of cruel laughter.

* * *

Sitting up in the beautiful garden once more he felt both at peace and apprehensive. The physical pain and mental anguish he had felt earlier were like a distant memory. The comforting smell of damp earth and the gentle breeze that ruffled his hair were like a balm. Laying back he closed his eyes and sighed. He couldn't shake the feeling that he just didn't belong here. Yet he'd had this dream many times before. Although he always forgot about it whenever he woke. It was almost like another world entirely. A world free from pain. Free from the madness of orcs and coming war. It was as if he was enveloped in the loving embrace of family.

A tug at his consciousness made him frown. He knew his time in the garden was about to end. He was waking up.

* * *

Letting out a hiss he scrambled away from the hand on his arm, eyes wild and confused. Bador raised his hands to show he meant no harm as Raihnon finally came back to himself. "Lieutenant?" The man motioned toward the door to the pen, and the light filtering in. It was morning.

Once they had finished eating they were pulled from their pen as usual. Shaka stood next to his white beast with a cruel smirk on his face as the Dunedain froze. "Surprise inspection." If possible the captain's smirk widened when his eyes locked on Raihnon. "Ah, _Vogal-sorr_ ; do you like your new necklace?" The orc guards surrounding them started to laugh at Raihnon's expression of confusion, which quickly turned to disgust. They all knew what would happen if they stepped out of line. Raihnon was a target now. "You didn't answer me, _Vogal-Sorr!_ " The orc growled, glaring at him. "Y-yes _Shaka-goth_ , I… I like it very much." He nearly choked on the words, his face turning red in shame at the pleased look on the captain's face. His eyes dropped to the ground, he didn't want to see that look.

"Raih-" Bador started to yell his name but was cut off suddenly. A large hand gripped his hair and pulled his head up. Amber eyes met green. "I thought I told you to look at me when I am speaking to you." Raihnon swore he could feel the vibration of those words through his body they were said with such anger. "I-I'm sorry!" Another yank on his hair made him gasp in pain, his feet were barely touching the ground and he had to reach up to grip the orc's arm with his own to keep the pressure off his sore scalp. "I'm s-sorry _Shaka-goth!_ Please…" He was released suddenly and hit the ground hard. The air was filled with laughter and the man wanted to curl up to hide his shame. Biting the inside of his cheek until it bled he rose from the ground and stood. Shakily at first but he steadied himself quickly, his eyes never leaving Shaka's.

"Get these pathetic sacks of meat to the dig site!" He barked. The men were led off quickly and Raihnon would have followed if it weren't for the iron grip on his arm. "Not you." Was the quiet command.

Towed through the camp once again he wanted to drag his feet but knew that it would end in a dislocated shoulder and other assorted injuries. So he followed obediently, trying to keep up with the much larger stride of the captain. _'Why me?'_ Was the question that ran through his head. _'I'm not the strongest or most fit. I'm not as good looking as Keval or as influential as the commander…'_ So what was it? Why had Shaka taken an interest in him of all people? The only distinct feature he had that the others did not was his green eyes… it couldn't be that simple, could it? Something so small.

Pulled to a stop he clung to the orc to keep himself from stumbling then paled at the amused look before releasing his hold. Studying their location he frowned. They were in a rocky area shaped like a semi-circle, the rock walls towering high above them. There was no one else around, not even Shaka's guards. They were completely alone. "Kneel." Raihnon hesitated. The next thing he knew his back stung fiercely as he was slammed into the wall and he couldn't draw breathe. He scrabbled at the orc's arm as his large hand closed around the man's slender neck. He was released and fell to the ground on his hands and knees, gasping for air. As soon as he could breathe easily again he looked up at the orc, aware of his previous command. He rose into a kneeling position, trying his best not to look away from the amber eyes staring down at him. "Such a good little crow." Shaka's fingers ran through his dark hair almost delicately. The speed at which he switched from brutal to calm terrified Raihnon. It was almost impossible to predict.

Tugged forward he was met with the bulge of the orc captain's trousers and blanched. _'Not again!'_ "Do not anger me further." _'Oh Valar'_ he thought, _'he expects me to do this all myself.'_ A shaking hand reached up and undid the laces that held back Shaka's member, releasing it. A pleased rumble left the orc. Raihnon closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Just like before he felt nauseous, his stomach rebelling at the memory of the vile taste. A hand settled on his head, fingers entwined in his hair and he knew he couldn't stall any longer. He took in as much of the length as he could without choking. He could feel those amber eyes on him as he tried to please the monster that held he and his brothers captive. "Enough!" He was pulled away and sat there in confusion. Rough hands grabbed him and pressed him into the rocky wall. His trousers were yanked off with a ripping sound and discarded, his tunic torn open. Lifted off the ground he felt the orc's warm member pressing against his entrance and blanched. "No! Please, _Sha-_ " The captain forced himself inside without a second thought. A silent scream left him, his words dying before he could finish.

It didn't hurt as much as the last time, but that wasn't saying much. Shaka set a furious pace, holding him up with an arm around his waist and the other against the wall. Raihnon cried out, the pain and pleasure coursing through him to the point where he thought he'd lost his mind. His pale arms went around the captain's neck as he tried to hold himself up, away from the violation he was currently suffering. The grip on his waist suddenly tightened and the captain buried his face against Raihnon's neck. He could feel the orc's hot breath against his skin and shuddered. A sudden sharp pain made him cry out in fear. Shaka grunted and spoke in a hoarse voice, _"vogal-sorr."_ Everything went black.

* * *

Gasping as he sat up he reached for his neck and let out a low hiss. Pulling his hand away it came back bloody and he felt the bile rise. He could feel everywhere the orc had touched as if it burned. Trying to stand he felt something on his legs and looked down. Blood and semen mingled and slid along his skin. It was the last straw. Turning away he threw up onto the ground, gasping as silent tears rolled down his cheeks. The captain stood nearby, watching him. Always watching. How he hated those eyes! He glared at the orc, teeth bared and eyes almost glowing with cold rage. He wondered what he must look like just then. Tangled locks, dirty skin, bloody clothes, tear tracks running down his face, down on all fours like a wild animal and snarling in fury.

Standing there was Shaka, a mad grin plastered across his face. "Foster that hatred, _baloratri-su sharazo._ " Ignoring any possible threat the man might pose Shaka stalked closer. Raihnon, even in his rage, knew he was no match for the orc who was far larger and more powerful than he. But he didn't care. He launched himself at his tormentor, intent on gouging out his eyes. Shaka seized him from the air and slammed him into the ground, pinning him. "Struggle all you want _Vogal-Sorr_ , it only excites me!" All at once the anger left him as he lay there breathing raggedly. His body screamed at him but he didn't have the energy to care. "And what if I don't?" The captain frowned. "What?" Raihnon looked him square in the eyes. "What if I don't struggle? What then?" He could feel the warmth on his neck and between his legs as he continued to sluggishly bleed onto the dirty ground. His wounds would soon close but that didn't mean the blood would be replenished as easily.

Shaka had no answer to give him. He stood and lifted the man from the dirt, carrying him back toward the camp. He whistled and the white caragor appeared. Raihnon didn't respond. He barely blinked when Shaka hauled himself up onto the beast's back still cradling him. Some time on the way back he finally fell unconscious. Soon he would be visiting that splendid garden once again.

* * *

Translations! Note these are not perfect translations. These are just my approximate guesses. I'm still pretty new to Black Speech.

 _Amallat balug frum Vogal-Sorr?_

\- Where has your fiery spirit gone, Little Crow?  
 _Shalat Goth._ \- Follow me. (Follow your master.)  
 _Lat thrakug kafaz snaga!_ \- You, bring the slave back to his cage!  
 _Kritar-kurv_ \- Captain's whore  
 _Baloratri-su sharazo._ \- My green eyed (hu)man.


	3. Cornered

Shaka returned to the camp on the back of his caragor. Laying limply across his lap and partially over one arm was the unconscious ranger. Every orc in camp could feel the waves of displeasure rolling off the captain and eyed him warily as he returned. _"Gimb najorsnaga sharogrim!"_ He growled at the first warrior brave enough to approach. The inner rage he was feeling must have shown on his face as the warrior immediately ran off to obey. The others milling about, pretending to work, looked at one another in confusion. Why would he need a _tark_ healer? They were all curious but no one questioned him out of fear of retribution. Shaka was, by orc standards, a fairly calm and level headed leader. Most of the time. The few times he'd lost control were fresh in the memory of every member of his warband. Catching his attention right now had a high chance of ending with death.

Leaving _Bukra_ to the caragor handlers he held the man to his chest and entered his tent. Carefully he lay the little crow down on his bed of furs. Brushing hair away from his pale face Shaka stared down at him with a thunderous expression. Cursing he felt agitated energy run up and down his body, muscles contracting and expanding as he clenched and unclenched his hands. He was unused to not knowing what to do. No human had ever caught his attention this way before. So many of his little pets had been broken and discarded the moment he became bored with them that he had long ago lost count. Yet something about this ranger held him fast, fixed in place, and unable to look away. It was like a spell. One he hadn't noticed himself falling under until it was too late.

Knocking at the entrance brought him back to the presence and he grunted. _"Hu-na."_ A human entered the hut, terrified of the implications of being brought to the Captain's living quarters. Shaking the man went to kneel but was stopped when Shaka shook his head and motioned him toward the unconscious ranger. "Here." A gasp left the healer, though it was little more than the sucking in of air. Moving further into the tent he knelt next to the injured man and placed his fingers against his neck to confirm he was still alive. Sitting back on his heels he looked up at the captain. "What is it you wish me to do, _Goth_?" Shaka glared down at the man with contempt, lips curling in a sneer. "Heal him." He snapped.

Eyes going wide the healer looked down at the ranger for a moment and slowly nodded. The man began his examination, wincing now and again when he found something particularly nasty. It was obvious from the blood between his thighs what the captain had done to the ranger. "I will need water, clean water. Preferably boiled over a fire. Clean cloths and soap, as well as herbs." Shaka's mouth became a thin line as his eyes narrowed. The slave was clearly terrified but his gaze remained steady. "This better be worth it _tark_."

Storming past the two humans he barked orders at the guards outside, his patience already thin line ready to snap.

Movement behind him caught his attention and he watched as the healer turned the ranger over to check his back. "You poor boy…" The healer whispered. The little crow's entire back was one long mess of bruises with scrapes that bled sluggishly onto his furs. It was with great surprise that Shaka found he didn't find such a sight amusing of arousing. He actually preferred the pale unmarked flesh he'd laid eyes on when he'd seen the man unclothed for the first time. Sitting on his throne he waited, watching the healer as he assessed the ranger's wounds.

The items the healer asked for were brought quickly and the man got to work. He watched as he cleaned each wound, curious about what he was doing. After all the little crow was his property. No one was allowed to do anything to him without Shaka's permission. When the human reached up to clean the wound on the ranger's neck both he and the orc captain were surprised by his possessive growl. The healer looked at him for a moment before carefully cleaning the wound and wrapping it. Shaka felt himself relax when he was finished, although he wasn't quite sure why.

It took the healer quite some time to finish. In fact it had taken him the bulk of the day. "I am finished, _Goth_. I will have to check his condition again in a couple of days, to change the bandages. But this is all I can do for now." Shaka called for the guards and ordered them to take him back to the pens. He was to stay there and rest until he was needed again. It was a generous offer, but it was also convenient. He didn't want to have to go looking for the man later if something happened to the ranger.

He stayed by the man's side for the rest of the day and that night as well. Wondering why he felt so attached to the little crow, and why hurting him had left him feeling sickened. Seeing those beautiful eyes go from fiery to dead had been a major shock to him. He didn't know what the ranger had done to him, what magic this was, but all he could do now is wait for the little crow to wake up.

hr

Opening his eyes to the garden he had the distinct impression that he would be there for some time. There was a faint echo of pain and a feeling of dread that surrounded him, even here. Breathing in the clean air a soft scent of flowers filled him, calming him considerably. It was like a refreshing mint crossed with a peaceful lavender. It seeped into his very bones and made him relax. There was something terrible going on… but at the moment he couldn't remember what it was. Surely nothing terrible could happen in this beautiful garden.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been there in the garden. There was no day or night. He felt neither hunger nor thirst. Just peace and restfulness. Though he felt very self conscious he eventually stood and for the first time focused on his surroundings. Nearby was a pond without a single ripple. It reflected the sky above and the flowering trees on the far bank. Kneeling he stared at his own reflection. His dark hair was combed and neatly tied back, pale face unmarked, and green eyes bright. About to turn away, not wanting to disturb the water, his eyes caught sight of something and he paused. Reaching up he pulled the collar of his tunic away to reveal a black mark that had been burned into his skin where neck and shoulder met. Jumping up he backed away from the pond, feeling as if someone was staring at him intently.

He felt a tug and shook his head in denial. He didn't want to return. A voice that came from nowhere and everywhere all at once spoke to him. **"You are mortal, you cannot remain here."** A blinding light appeared and he closed his eyes tightly against the glare. Tears began to stream down his face as compassion and forgiveness washed over him. It felt as if shattered pieces were being knit back together inside of him. **"This is all I can do for you, child. Now wake."**

hr

Seven days. The ranger had been unconscious for seven whole days. In that time Shaka had only grown more and more short tempered, taking out his anger on anyone who made even the smallest mistake. The only reprieve the band had was when the captain would return to his tent to watch over the man as he slept. The human healer told him there was nothing more he could do. They had to wait for the ranger to wake up on his own.

That entire week Shaka thought about the ranger's words. What if he no longer struggled? If the little crow became an obedient slave who never challenged him. What would he do then? The idea that the man would become like his previous pets irked the orc captain. Once they'd been broken their blank stares and lack of reaction had bored him. He'd discarded each of them like trash. But this man, the young ranger, kept him captivated. It was indescribable. An obsession that was burning within him. Shaka decided that he didn't want to see the man broken. What he wanted was to see those green eyes turn sharp, like gemstones, and burn with the cold fury he knew was hiding within.

Kneeling next to the man he reached down and brushed a hand down his neck, letting his fingers trail over the scar. The only permanent mark left on his body. _"Voval-sorr…"_

hr

 _"Gimb najorsnaga sharogrim!"_ \- Find me a (hu)man healer from the (human) slaves!  
 _"Hu-na."_ \- Enter!


End file.
